


Could try harder

by chick_with_wifi



Series: Isn't there a law against that? [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7897633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chick_with_wifi/pseuds/chick_with_wifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Machine are sophomores at Thornhill University.<br/>Featuring: a rivalry against Samaritan College, puns and a teeny bit of illegal breaking and entering</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this first chapter features a hospital appointment so if you are squeamish or dislike needles/mentions of blood/hospitals etc. then I recommend you skip to the part below the dots (.....). Thank you!

“Pinch your nose!”

“How’s that going to help?”

Shaw shrugged. “I read somewhere it stops you tasting as much if you pinch your nose.”

Root rolled her eyes and tried it, pinching her nose with one hand and tilting the glass of energy drink in the other. She took a large sip and managed to swallow half of it before pausing to take a breath. “Eurgh!” she exclaimed and practically snorted. “I got fizz in my nose.”

Reaching down to stroke Bear, Shaw laughed. They were at the hospital for the third time that week. The first had been an X-ray, followed by Root’s quarterly clinic appointment and finally a glucose tolerance test. If Shaw was fed up of the sight of the place, she had no idea how Root, who had been doing this her entire life, was feeling.

Root looked perfectly relaxed, sat cross-legged on the bed chugging the last of her drink and slamming the cup down triumphantly. “Finished!” She stood and took hold of the handle on Bear’s vest. “We can tell the Tracy we’re going on our way out.” She paused to open the door. “We can go browse town if you want?”

“Yep.” They walked past the main desk, Root saying hello to Fran then telling Tracy they were off. Whenever they got a new nurse, Root thought it was hilarious how they always thought she had to be some sort of celebrity since everybody knew her. When in reality she was just a CF patient.

“See you in two hours,” said Tracy with a smile.

Root and Shaw waved at her before heading out. Town wasn’t far and there weren't all too many people about, thankfully.

As they were walking, Shaw asked, “so what does this glucose tolerance test determine exactly?”

“How much of the glucose from that energy drink is absorbed by my body, I think. People with CF sometimes develop CF related diabetes. I’m fairly sure I don't have that, but I do have ‘impaired glucose tolerance’ which is effectively wussy diabetes.”

“‘Wussy diabetes’?”

“Yes.”

“You made that up!”

Root laughed and gasped in mock-offence. “I did not!”

Shaw held up her hands, “OK, fine.”

They walked a few more steps in silence, Root frowning. “Do you want something to eat?” she asked eventually as they passed a small bakery on the corner. “I mean, I’m not allowed obviously, but we can't have you passing out from hunger.”

“No thanks. But how are you not passing out from hunger?”

Root shrugged. The test meant that Root had not been allowed to eat or drink anything all day so that when they took her blood before the energy drink they knew it was definitely her normal glucose level. They would test it again two hours after her drink to determine how much of the glucose had been absorbed. She supposed she was probably hungry and was feeling a little shaky, but it didn't bother her too much.

“Let's look in here!” said Root, leading the way into a small charity shop. A bell on the door jingled to announce their entry and a man looked up from his phone. At the sight of Bear he opened his mouth, but shut it swiftly when he saw the prominent ‘service dog’ badge on the dog’s vest. The two girls browsed the tables covered in clothes, occasionally picking something up to get a closer look. “Do you like this?” Root held a pastel blue T-shirt up to herself.

“It looks really cute on you,” said Shaw happily. “You know what, I’ll buy it for you.” She got her wallet out of her jeans pocket.

“Sweetie, you don't need to do that,” said Root.

Shaw counted out her money and handed it to the shopkeeper. “It can be your congratulatory present for surviving all these hospital appointments,” she told Root. The shopkeeper handed her the shirt, “Thank you.”

“Thank you so much.” Root kissed her then took her hand as they left the shop.

They browsed a few more places before returning to the hospital. When they entered the hospital room, Root kicked off her boots and sat on the bed with Shaw.

“Hello again,” said Tracy cheerfully as she entered holding a blue plastic tray. “Let’s get this cream off then.” She peeled the sticker off the back of Root’s hand and wiped the numbing cream off it with a paper towel. “Ready?”

Root closed her eyes and nodded. The cream meant she couldn't feel it when Tracy inserted the needle, but it stung like anything when the needle reached her vein. Shaw was holding her other hand and caressing it with her thumb. Jaw clenched, Root tried to focus on Shaw instead of the needle.

“That’s it. Nearly done,” said Tracy. “And - finished.” Root opened her eyes and accepted the band-aid, sticking it over the small drop of blood on her hand. “How was that?”

“Not too bad. Can we get some breakfast now?”

Tracy nodded. “Yes. See you around.” She picked up the tray and left the room.

Root lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. “Ughhhh.”

“That bad, huh?” asked Shaw sympathetically.

She massaged her temples, “I once fainted after one of these. Hopefully we won't have a repeat performance.”

“Then let’s get some caffeine in you,” decided Shaw, standing up. 

Root followed suit and took hold of Bear’s harness.

…..

Root and Shaw were stood in the queue in Starbucks when the older, tattooed man behind them piped up, “don't you know you have to be 18 to be served here?”

Root, who actually was 19 even though she didn't look it, graciously ignored him. She and Shaw both ordered their drinks and moved to the end of the counter to wait for them.

“Coffee for Sameen?” announced one of the baristas.

Shaw raised her hand and took the drink. “I didn't get my muffin,” she complained to Root.

“Did you order a muffin?” asked Root.

“Yes.”

“Then ask for your muffin. Honestly, do I have to think of everything around here?”

Shaw fake-glared at her and got the attention of the barista. At the same time another barista held up a drink that looked like it could well be an iced caramel macchiato and said something that Root didn't quite catch amid all the background noise and whirring machinery. Her hectic morning at the hospital and the crowded coffee shop had left her quite stressed, so she got the attention of the barista. “I think that’s mine. What is it?” she asked, using ASL as she spoke.

“Iced caramal macchiato for Root,” repeated the barista, facing her.

“Yes, that’s mine.” She took the drink.

“Cool name by the way,” added the barista.

“Thank you,” Root said and signed. As she walked to the table where Shaw was sat, she caught sight of the tattooed man staring at her with his mouth hanging open.

She slid into her seat and Bear sat by her feet. Root said, “I just made the biggest fool of myself!” She told Shaw what had happened and turned bright red, hiding her face in her hands.

“No,” corrected Shaw, “you just made the biggest fool of that guy.”

Root stretched one arm over the table and rested her head on it. “I don't even know what happened. I sign when I get flustered. It’s honestly the biggest tell in the world.” She sat up and did an impression of one of their professors. “How are you feeling about this exam, Root?” Then she returned to her own posture and signed as she said, “I’m feeling confident, professor.” Back to the professor: “no you aren't, you just signed.” She dramatically sighed. “I’d be useless if I ever actually got arrested like Harry did that one time.”

Shaw took a sip of her drink. “Well you did teach that guy a pretty valuable lesson about randomly talking to teenage girls in public. And in all fairness, you wouldn't have been able to hear him if he’d been on your bad side.”

“Exactly!” Root chewed thoughtfully on her straw while Shaw ate her muffin and began scraping the wrapper with her knife to make sure she got every last crumb. “Pick it up and lick it, I won't judge.”

“I have some sense of decency, so no,” protested Shaw. “Shouldn't you have something to eat as well?”

“I’ll get something on the way back. And you have a little...” She indicated to a spot on her own face opposite to where Shaw had a crumb.

“Shut up.”


	2. chapter 2

“I bet you're wondering why I have gathered you all here today,” announced Zoe dramatically in the common room. “Well wonder no more. It is time for me to announce which group of friends will be in charge of organizing prom. The honor goes to…” She paused, “drumroll please.”

A few people grudgingly tapped the desk.

“Team Machine!” cried Zoe.

Harold hit his head on the desk, Shaw groaned and Root clapped her hands in glee.

“I bet Joss was the catalyst,” grumbled Shaw.

“But Joss doesn't discriminate against cows!” protested Root.

Shaw looked at her. “Huh?”

“Cattle-ist,” said Root. She pouted, “you never like my puns.”

“I would if they were good puns. Is there even such thing as a good pun?”

Root shrugged. “Probably not. But that isn't enough to deter me.”

“A literal live bear wouldn't be enough to deter you,” said Shaw.

“Like this one?” Root snapped her fingers and Bear ran to her side. As she stroked his nose, she said, “that was far too easy, Shaw.”

“Does anybody know what theme Samaritan University is having?” Zoe asked the entire room. There was a collective shaking of heads. “That doesn't matter, because either way our prom is going to kick their prom’s ass.” Everybody cheered. The rivalry between Thornhill and Samaritan had been going on a long time and ran very deep.

The rest of their classmates left, probably going somewhere to celebrate not being on the organizing committee, and Zoe came up to Team Machine. “Hey guys. Did you have any ideas for the theme?”

From her jeans pocket, Grace produced a neatly written list. “We’ve come up with a few. Fairytales, Venetian carnival and Victorian England were the most popular.”

“Ooh, I like Victorian England,” said Zoe excitedly. “You should do that one. Anyhoo, I’ll leave it to you guys to sort out. And here’s a little tip: if you're going to do something wrong, do it right.” She snapped her fingers and pointed fingerguns at them on her way out.

…..

Three hours later everything had been decided, the decorations ordered and Root was asleep on the floor of the common room with her head on Shaw’s lap. Grace was leaning against Harold with her head on his shoulder, and John and Joss were hunched over Joss’s laptop.

“I think we’re done,” said Joss hopefully, checking her watch and stifling a yawn. John then had to yawn, and managed to glare at Joss throughout the entire thing.

Shaw gently prodded Root who abruptly sat up and yelled, “BOSNIA!”

Everyone in the room stared at her.

“The Bosnian Crisis of 1908,” she explained, rubbing her face. “It’s on my history syllabus.” As if that explained everything, she stood up. “We good?”

“I think so,” said Shaw.

Root snapped her fingers and Bear ran over to her side. “See y’all tomorrow.” She waved one hand and took hold of Bear’s harness with the other. Then she started coughing, and Bear moved to stand in front of her so she could brace herself against his back. Lying down probably wasn't a good idea, she thought, my lungs really aren't happy. It felt like she hadn't even finished her cough before the next one exploded out of her and she had a strong feeling she was red in the face. Eventually it subsided and she said goodbye to her friends. Shaw gently placed a hand on the small of her back and led her out of the room.

“You OK?” asked Shaw when they were outside.

Root clenched every muscle in her body to try and stop herself coughing again, managing a curt nod in answer to Shaw’s question. If she could just hold on until she got back to their room she could stop trying to suppress the coughs. Repeating that over and over in her head, Root made her way back to their room with the assistance of Bear. As her service dog, one of his jobs was to provide forward momentum when Root was walking so she could keep going when her lungs were tired.

When they finally arrived, Root ran into the bathroom and spent the next ten minutes in there, dispelling the contents of her lungs and, unfortunately, also her stomach.

“How’s it going?” called Shaw through the door.

“Not so good,” Root called back. “I may or may not have thrown up everything I ate today. I’ll never put weight on if I keep up like this, gosh darn it!” She groaned and rested her head on the side of the bath from where she was knelt on the floor. Her lungs, stomach, head and ears were all hurting and she was exhausted.

“Root?” asked Shaw when she hadn't heard anything from her in a full minute. “You'd better not be unconscious, otherwise I’m totally gonna kick your ass.”

Root had heard Shaw, but the idea of moving to her bedroom was too much and made her want to curl up in a ball where she was and go to sleep in the hopes that everything would stop hurting. As it was, she managed a groan that signified she was still alive. 

Shaw entered the bathroom and saw Root leant against the bath, paler than usual and with her eyes closed. Her brow was furrowed in what looked like an awful headache and knees drawn up to her chest the way she did when she was in pain.

Root heard Shaw sit next to her, and forced herself to open her eyes. Holding on to the bath for support, she pulled herself to her feet. Shaw helped Root to the bedroom and handed her a glass of water and her nighttime pills. Root took them then got under the covers, ignoring the fact that she was still in her clothes.

Root found the most comfortable position possible and said goodnight, leaving Shaw to it because she knew how much her girlfriend appreciated having time to herself in the evenings. Root often made a point of not disturbing Shaw’s routine, and never sprung plans on her without telling her in advance. Another thing she liked to do was bring home food for Shaw, because that was the one type of surprise her girlfriend loved. Her appetite was enough to feed a small army and she would never say no to food. Her girlfriend. Root would never get tired of the little rush to joy she felt using that title for Sameen Shaw.


	3. chapter 3

The evening before prom finally rolled around, and Root, Shaw and Harold headed down to the basement where they had stored all the decorations. Shaw flipped on the light switch and let out a low cry. Not a single decoration was in sight.

“I suppose it’s too much to hope Joss beat us to it and has already set up?” asked Root pathetically.

“They must have been stolen by Samaritan University,” said Shaw quietly. “So now we have to steal them back. Come on!”

Shaw led the way out of the basement to where her car was parked at the front of the building.

“Are we going to break in?” asked Root. “Do you think they will have put the decorations in their basement?”

“Yes,” replied Shaw.

“Why Sameen! You haven't agreed with me since you last agreed with me!”

“Well yeah…”

Harold laughed as they got into the car. Bear sat next to Root on the back seat, Shaw was driving and Harold road shotgun. Shaw flored the ignition and accelerated onto the main road.

Harold gripped the doorhandle like his life depended on it and was turning slightly green. “I forgot how much of a crazy driver you are, Shaw. Slow down!”

“Harry’s right,” Root piped up from the back. “You don't want to be arrested before we commit the crime we set out to do.”

“Fine,” grumbled Shaw, slowing the car down to the speed limit. Five minutes later they pulled up outside the large white-painted building with an obnoxious banner reading ‘Samaritan University’. There was a pair of double doors in the center with a large pillar either side, making it look kind of like a Roman colluseum. To the other side of each pillar was a window about six feet off the ground with a wide stone ledge.

The squad got out and walked over to the nearest window. The building was dark and deserted inside, and most of the nearby houses had closed their curtains for the night. Harold was the onle one tall enough to see into the window, so he got up on his tiptoes and cupped his hands around his eyes, peering in. “It’s a lab,” he informed them. “Perhaps we should look around the back?”

Shaw nodded. Behind the school was the playing field, so they didn't have to worry about potentially being seen. Unfortunately, there were also no streetlamps so they were in complete darkness. Root produced a flashlight from her pocket and swept the beam around them, revealing a lower down window with an old wooden frame. Inside, they could make out a corridor lined with lockers leading down to a stairwell labelled ‘basement’.

“Bingo,” whispered Root. She told Bear to sit and producded a prybar from her pocket.

“Why do you have these things?” exclaimed Harold.

“The prybar is for something else,” said Root distractedly as she slid part of it under the rotting wood. As she applied pressure, the frame began to splinter and break away. She kept wriggling until she had a gap big enough to fit her fingers through. Then she got hold of part of the window and pulled it towards her, the hinges creaking like a staircase in a haunted house. When it was far enough open she took hold of it with both hands and pulled it as far as it would go.

“Give me a leg up,” said Shaw. Root linked her fingers together and held them at knee height. Shaw put one hand on the window frame and the other against the wall as she put all her weight on her foot in Root’s hands. Quickly, she got her opposite knee on the windowledge and scrambled inside, letting herself drop about three feet to the ground. “I’m in,” she called back to them, her voice echoing in the deserted corridor. “Are either of you coming?”

“Yes, just let me tie Bear to something,” Root called back. A few seconds later she had wrapped Bear’s leash around a nearby drainpipe and Harold helped her into the building.

Due to the fact he was nearly a foot taller than both the girls, he was able to climb in by himself. While Root investigated further, Harold scratched nervously at his chin. “I’m so nervous I’ve grown a beard!”

Shaw rolled her eyes and set off in the direction of the basement. The door had a small window in it through which they could see a metal spiral stairwell. Shaw turned the handle and the opened the door slowly, as if she thought it might be booby trapped. A bucket of water balanced on top of it, maybe. There was no such thing, however, so they descended the stairs to a wide, modern room that could just as easily be found in a mansion. The ceiling was white tiles, the floor shiny laminate and one wall was entirely taken up by a mirror.

“I think this was originally a dance studio,” said Root, walking up to the bar attached to the wall opposite the mirror and doing a plié. “You know, before they used it to house stolen paraphernalia.” She did an arabesque, followed by a pirouette then pointed to a pile of cardboard boxes and plastic crates boasting an eclectic selection of paper plates, bunting and other prom essentials. “These are ours.” 

“Then let's gather them up and be off!” said Harold urgently.

“What’s the matter?” teased Shaw. “Worried you're going to go to jail again?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Now let’s go!” He loaded the girls up with boxes and took one himself, leading the way up the stairs. When they reached the window, they put their boxes down and Root gave Shaw a leg up then handed h box to her through the window.

“I’ll take this to the car then come back for the rest,” explained Shaw. Momentarily pausing of give Bear a quick stroke, she speed walked to her car.

“We should go back down for the others,” decided Root. “Then when we have them all here we can get a sort of conveyor belt system going.”

Harold shrugged. “Alright.” The two to them jogged back to the basement. 

While they were there, Root’s phone vibrated in her back pocket and she got it out. “Shaw wants to know where we are. Well, no what she actually said was ‘(outside window) Marco!’ but that is her way of asking where we are.” She signified the brackets by cupping her hands opposite each other and made air quotes to show she was reading the exact text.

“Marco?” asked Harold with his brows furrowed.

“I’m too deaf to play actual Marco Polo so we have a texting version where you say your own location followed by one of the two words depending on which of you texted first,” explained Root. “It actually works!” She started typing.

“What are you replying?” asked Harold.

“‘(Getting more boxes from basement) Polo!’.”

When she had sent her text she put her phone away and picked up one of the plastic boxes. Harold did the same and they returned to the surface. Shaw was stood on the other side of the window glaring at them. “I came back and you'd gone!” she cried. “I thought you’d been arrested since, you know, that's always happening to Harold.”

He sighed dramatically. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“No,” said Root and Shaw in unison. 

Root then passed her one of the boxes and climbed put of the window with Harold’s help. He tried to pass her another box but she waved it away. “That one’s quite empty, maybe you should put some stuff from one of the other boxes in it.”

“Just take the box,” said Harold tiredly.

“ _You’re_ a box!”

He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. “Huh?”

Root ignored him and followed Shaw to the car.

When they had loaded all the boxes and closed the window, hoping nobody would notice there was approximately a quarter less window frame than there had been the previous day, the three of them (and Bear) were about to high-tail it out of there when Root sat down on the ground, rested her back against the wall and pulled her laptop out of the case she’d stowed it in in Shaw’s car.

“What in the red rock river valley are you doing _now_?” asked Shaw.

“Right now, using their WiFi,” said Root. She was typing quickly and had one lock of hair in her mouth she was chewing thoughtfully on.

“How long are you planning to be?” Impatience was beginning to creep into Shaw’s voice.

“Not long. Aaaand done!” She hit the enter key and got into the car next to Bear. “I jsut ordered a thousand dollars worth of decorations using their school funding. If Samaritan University needed them badly enough to steal, I basically did them a favour.” She shrugged innocently and stroked Bear’s ears.


	4. chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** alcohol

Wearing sunglasses, Shaw entered the common room the following morning and sat next to Root at their table.

“Hi Shaw,” said Root with a cheeky smile.

“Too loud,” mumbled Shaw, resting her head on the desk. “I’m hungry.”

Root patted Shaw’s head sympathetically, then began playing with her hair.

“How on earth can you be hungry?” asked Harold. “You are everything at the club last night!”

“Shaw, you ate the plates!” exclaimed John.

“I’m pretty sure I did not,” said Shaw, her voice muffled by the table.

“How would you know, Sweetie? You were hammered,” said Root.

“Just be thankful she doesn't remember the karaoke,” Joss said to John.

Shaw abruptly sat up with a face like thunder, causing Root to recoil in surprise, “WHAT?”

The evening before 

“You did what?!” yelled John over the thumping bass of the music. Team Machine had decided to celebrate their achievement by heading to their campus nightclub.

“You heard me,” said Shaw.

“I did, it’s the believing I’m having trouble with. Well, not really considering I know you-”

“Oi!” Shaw punched his arm.

“-but it still seems a bit extreme,” finished John, making a point of rubbing his arm.

“It seemed logical at the time,” shrugged Root. Then, “Oh gosh, I’m turning into Spock!”

“I didn't know Spock was a lesbian,” said Shaw.

John high-fived her while Root tossed her hair. “I will leave,” she threatened. “Then you will be forced to spend the evening with straight people. No offense,” she added to Joss, John, Harold and Grace.

“None taken,” said Harold. “I’m surprised you even came in the first place.”

Root gestured with her glass of orange juice. “To be honest, even I’m surprised I came. A club full of people I don't like, music so loud I can hear it with both ears and alcohol I can't drink because I -” she dramatically threw her head back and placed the back of her right hand on her forehead - “have CF.”

Shaw gave her an unimpressed look. “Was that really necessary?”

Root scrunched up her face and closed her eyes. “That was supposed to be a wink,” she clarified afterwards.

“I was wondering,” muttered Shaw.

“What?”

“I was wondering,” repeated Shaw clearer and louder.

“Do you suppose if I asked the barkeep for a Shirley Temple he would know what I wanted?” asked Root thoughtfully, gazing sadly at her almost empty juice.

“The ‘barkeep’?” snorted Shaw into her beer.

“Is that not what the individual working at the bar is commonly referred to as?” Root folded her arms indignantly.

“I think if you asked the bartender here for a whiskey and he knew what you wanted you’d be lucky,” said John.

At the sight of Root’s expression Harold hastily said, “Don't do anything stupid like ask for a latte.”

“I wasn't going to ask for a latte! I was going to ask for a cup of tea,” she added under her breath. “And if they refused to make me one I was going to take my custom elsewhere. But of course you had to ruin it, Harry, so now I’m not going to do that because far be it for me to do something after you told me not to regardless of how much fun it would have been, well I suppose it depends on your idea of fun but mine is annoying people so there you go YOU RUINED MY ENTIRE EVENING HARRY.”

“That was a really long sentence,” said Grace after a beat of semi-awkward silence had passed.

“Yeah,” agreed Joss.

“I waited so long to get a word in edgeways I forgot what I was going to say,” said John, looking forlornly at the coaster on the table in front of him.

Root angled herself away from her friends to cough then downed the last of her drink. “Sorry guys. I sometimes get a bit carried away.”

“Really?” asked Shaw sarcastically. “I hadn't noticed.” She got up to buy the next round.

“She’s gone, let's talk trash about her!” suggested Root excitedly. “But not really because she's my girlfriend and I love her dearly. Hey, do any of you happen to know if you can get drunk from the atmosphere of a club?”

“It seems possible from the way you’ve been acting,” said Joss. “But of course we would have to come back tomorrow and take a stratified sample with a placebo.”

“What the heck is a stratified sample?” asked John.

“I have no idea,” admitted Joss. “But it sounded sciency.”

“The hunter gatherer has returned,” announced Shaw as she set a pitcher of beer in the middle of the table, a cup of tea in front of Root and kept a bottle for herself.

“Thank you babe!” cried Root, throwing her arms around Shaw.

“My pleasure,” slurred Shaw as she nursed her drink.

“What is the percentage of that?” Root tried to turn Shaw’s bottle around so she could see the label, but the Persian tried to move it out of the way and ended up spilling half of it down herself. “Sameen, stop waving that in my face like you’re on a pub crawl!” muttered Root irritatedly as she discovered Shaw’s drink was far more alcoholic than the average beverage served at their campus nightclub.

“Guys!” gasped Shaw as she noticed a karaoke set nearby that wasn't being used. “We should sing! Root, come song with me!”

“Come _song_ with me?” echoed Grace. “She must be absolutely hammered.”

“Um, no thanks Sweetie,” said Root nervously. “You’re tone deaf and I’m deaf deaf, and I wouldn't want to put any of these nice people through listening to us sing like two cats being force-fed spaghetti.”

Shaw was having none of it and grabbed Root by the hand, dragging her towards the karaoke machine and selecting ‘Mamma Mia’. “Are you ready?” she asked as the song began.

“No,” squeaked Root, clutching the microphone for dear life. As the opening notes sounded and the lyrics scrolled onto the screen, the sound that followed was enough to make every single person in the club want to run for the hills.

None of them did, to their credit, but Root and Shaw’s singing was a sound that would be engraved into their friends’ memories for years to come. Shaw wouldn't be too bad normally, but with a drunken slur and impaired judgement she sounded terrible. Meanwhile, Root’s deaf ear and low lung function seemed to have conspired to make the worst notes possible emanate from her mouth.

The song ended and a few people clapped simply because it was over.

“Should we do another?” asked Shaw, flicking through the song options.

“No!” cried Root urgently. She cleared her throat, “I mean, probably not. Wouldn't you rather have something to eat?”

Shaw snapped her fingers and pointed at Root. “Yessss. She’s smart, this one. Yo, barkeep!”

Root winced and returned to their table. “Whose idea was this?” she grumbled. Harold opened his mouth but she quickly said, “And no, it wasn't mine.”

“It was Shaw’s,” said Grace. “Poor thing.” She pointed to the bar and they all followed her gaze. Shaw was trying and failing to climb up onto one of the bar stools while repeatedly insisting it had in face grown since she’s sat on it last. Shortly afterwards she gave up and slammed a wad of notes onto the table, instructing the bartender to give her all the bags of chips he had behind the counter.

“I would go and get junk food, y’see,” she explained, leaning against the counter. “But my girlfriend will be tired and I don't want to drag her around unnecessarily.”

“Aww.” Root claspered her hands to her chest and stared dreamily at Shaw with honest to goodness tears in her eyes.

“Tone it down, Romeo,” said John when he noticed his friend’s stare. “You might creep her out.”

Root glared at him while Shaw sat on her chair and scoffed her chips, casually minding her own business.

“Guys,” Shaw said hesitantly around a mouthful of food. “I don't mean to alarm any of you but the room may or may not be spinning.” Before any of them could react, she dropped off her chair and thumped onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. 

“Sameen!” cried Root, throwing her cup down so violently half her drink sloshed over the side and rushing over to her girlfriend. She was unconscious and, as far as Root could see in the dim light, uninjured.

“That rather puts an end to out evening,” commented Harold.

“The poor thing will have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow,” said Grace sympathetically.

“Don't just stand there like morons - help me!” Root frowned at the unconscious girl and tried to fathom out the logistics of carrying her out of the club.

“I got this,” announced John. He swung his friend over his shoulder fireman-style and carried her out like she weighed nothing.

Harold, Grace and Joss opted to retire for the night and John carried Shaw back to the room she shared with Root.

“Thank you so much,” gushed Root as the opened the door and flicked on the light.

“No problem,” replied John. “So long as you let me tease her about it tomorrow. And for years to come.” He laid Shaw gently on her bed.

Root laughed and Bear ran up to her. “Hello there,” she said, bending down to stroke him. To John she added, “You can absolutely tease her.”

Bear leapt up onto the bed and began licking Shaw’s face, but the unconscious woman didn't stir.

“Goodnight, then,” said John as he left.

“Goodnight.” Root tucked Shaw in, taking care to be extra gentle since she rarely had the opportunity to take care of her for a change. “She’s so going to regret this tomorrow,” muttered Root to herself.


End file.
